


butterbeer on the mantel

by timshl



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:00:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27781156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timshl/pseuds/timshl
Summary: They called Yongsun the ice princess, which Byulyi thought was unfair; she was willing to bet the contents of her parents’ Gringotts vault that those who did so had never spoken a word to Yongsun before. She could see where they were coming from, though, because on the outside Yongsun was nothing if not indifferent, guarded, and effortlessly beautiful. But Byulyi knew better.(Moonsun Hogwarts AU: non-linear, but there’s a plot in there somewhere, trust me)
Relationships: Kim Yongsun | Solar/Moon Byulyi | Moonbyul
Comments: 60
Kudos: 161





	1. yong, fourth year

**Author's Note:**

> I gave up trying to find a plausible way for Hogwarts to be simultaneously British yet consist solely of Korean students and staff... So in this fic Hogwarts is still in England, while everyone else is Korean, and no explanation why is offered. Please just go with it. 
> 
> Also, I've messed around with the Hogwarts age requirements: in this 'verse, students start school in the year they turn 13, no matter their birthday month (so the average student would begin their fourth year in the year they turn 16).

“We’re _so_ going to get our asses kicked today,” Changsub grumbled, once the four of them had successfully squeezed their way into front row seats in the Slytherin Quidditch stand. The stands were already packed, with the game bound to start in less than five minutes, but Eric somehow always managed to ensure the best seats were saved for them. Probably a result of wielding Prefect authority via his bevy of minions. Sometimes it unsettled Yongsun, how many invisible hands Eric seemed to have at his bidding, no matter if all they did was accomplish trivialities like saving seats. “Why are we even here again?” 

“Don’t be such a downer,” Chorong replied reprovingly, hitting him lightly on the wrist. “The game hasn’t even started yet.”

Changsub raised his hand and dramatically listed on his fingers. “One, Slytherin hasn’t won a single game in the past two seasons. Two: Yubin, the best Chaser we have, is out for the rest of the year because of a bad case of Spattergroit, bless her soul. Three, Gryffindor has fucking _Moon Byulyi_. I rest my case.” 

Yongsun had to agree that he had a point.

Chorong looked like she was racking her brains to come up with an argument, but after a few seconds she deflated in her seat with a sigh.

“Well, however it turns out, we can still enjoy the game. It will be a good stress-reliever for the school, now that midterms are coming up.”

That was Eric, diplomatic as ever, snaking his arm around Yongsun’s lower back to rest his hand possessively on her left hip. From the corner of her eye, she caught Chorong sneaking her an incredulous _is-your-boyfriend-being-serious-right-now_ raised eyebrow; Yongsun discreetly swatted her thigh with a glare, but Chorong only smirked. 

“It’s going to be a bloodbath,” Changsub was saying, shaking his head. “I can only hope Irene prepared the team for it.” Irene was the Slytherin Quidditch team’s captain and Seeker, a very beautiful and equally reserved fifth year whose voice Yongsun had only heard once. 

“Oh, would you shut up about us losing!” Chorong snapped. “The team trained hard for this, show them some respect.”

“I’m only speaking the truth! Come on Rong, you have to see that…” 

Yongsun tuned them out, used to her best friends’ interminable bickering. She scanned the empty pitch, eyes drifting over to where the Gryffindor team would enter. Unlike Changsub, she was anxious for the game to begin, but didn’t think her reason would go down so well with the group. 

It had been a while since she’d last spoken to Byulyi, what with the Gryffindor star chaser’s newfound popularity meaning that she was constantly surrounded by sycophantic hangers-on she was generous enough to call “friends”. Plus, Byulyi had a girlfriend now. Also, Yongsun was dating Eric, and _that_ took up a sizeable amount of her time—there were study dates, and make out dates, and take-a-walk-around-the-school-grounds-to-chat-and-relax dates, and everything in between, to see to.

If someone had told her earlier that being in a relationship would take up so much damn _time,_ she might have seriously reconsidered Eric’s proposal. 

Considering all that, not to mention the new academic rigours of fourth year, it was little wonder that her and Byulyi’s weekly meet-ups of third year had fallen by the wayside. Sometimes at night, in that muddled limbo between consciousness and sleep, Byulyi’s face would appear indistinctly in her mind’s eye. Yongsun missed her. 

Eric knocked her out of her little reverie with a nudge. “You’re quiet today. What are you thinking?” he asked, rubbing a thumb over her waist through her robes. She knew he meant it to be soothing, but at that moment it annoyed her, and she had to fight not to squirm away.

“Nothing much,” she said. Then, because she knew that wouldn’t satisfy him, “Just thinking about Professor Yoo’s essay assignment on antidotes, I suppose. I haven’t decided what to write about yet, and I need to get it done by the weekend.” 

Eric brightened. “Antidotes are easy. I have a really comprehensive set of notes on draughts that I prepared for Advanced Potions, I can share them with you later.” 

“That would be a huge help. Thanks, Eric.” 

“Anytime,” he said, leaning over to drop a light kiss on her cheek, just as the horn that indicated the match was about to begin sounded.

Eric was sweet, she thought. He was sweet and supportive and clever, and she was lucky to have him.

Commentator Park Sooyoung from Ravenclaw (or Joy, as she preferred to be called) began by announcing the players. The whoops and shrieks from the crowd swelled to a crescendo when she introduced Moon Byulyi, arguably Hogwarts’s most celebrated Quidditch player of recent years. 

Yongsun sat very straight, thrumming with anticipation, as Byulyi soared effortlessly into the air and came into clear view amid raucous cheers. Her short silver hair was pulled back into a half ponytail, and her red and gold cape streamed out behind her regally. It was too far away to see, but Yongsun could easily imagine her impish grin, nose scrunched up and teeth showing. Byulyi’s first love was flying; being the centre of attention came a close second. 

It was, as Changsub had predicted, a bloodbath. Gryffindor scored goal after goal, their Byulyi-Seulgi-Naeun Chaser trio unmatched. The Slytherin Chasers hardly got to lay their hands on the Quaffle, and Sandeul had taken to doing loop de loops in front of the Slytherin goal posts to pass the time. Changsub’s loud groans and curses whenever Gryffindor gained another ten points evolved into decreasingly audible grunts. Chorong had been gnawing on her lip anxiously for ten minutes.

Meanwhile, Yongsun was careful to keep her expression smooth and mildly disinterested.

She took great satisfaction in her ability to compartmentalize, and for the past month, Byulyi out of sight had been effectively out of mind. Now, however… It was like the month of distance had summarily gone to waste. 

For the mastery Byulyi had over her craft was impeccable, and terribly, terribly attractive. 

Watching her fly was an event in and of itself. It never failed to leave Yongsun just very slightly breathless; it was doubly thrilling when she hadn’t seen her in action for a period of time.

Byulyi was undoubtedly the star of the game, perpetually ready to receive the Quaffle from her fellow Chasers, or magically appearing out of nowhere to intercept Slytherin’s passes. Whenever the Quaffle was in her possession, which was often, it was almost certain that Joy would announce a Gryffindor goal within the next few minutes. 

“Gryffindor takes the Quaffle—nice catch, Seulgi! I mean, Kang—she’s heading towards the goal posts, looks like her way is clear—ah, she’s blocked by the Bludger, nice play there by the Slytherin Beater—and Slytherin intercepts! Choi is now in possession of the Quaffle—oh wait no, he’s just dropped it, not sure what happened there... YES! Gryffindor’s Moon Byulyi with the Quaffle, GOOD CATCH MOON, she’s flying at full speed to the posts now, _look_ at her go… If she scores, this will mean one eighty-ten to Gryffindor! It looks like she’s going to make—fuck!” 

A collective gasp reverberated through the stands in the wake of Joy’s unprecedented expletive as a Bludger, seemingly out of nowhere, slammed full-force into Byulyi’s right side, knocking her completely off-course and sending her careening sideways as the Quaffle went flying out of her grasp. A hushed silence reigned in the moments that followed—even Joy had fallen quiet—and Yongsun felt her heart frozen in her chest as she watched, as if in slow-motion, Byulyi whirl wildly downwards on her broom. The sight might have been comical, if it wasn’t so terrifying. 

Then, in a flurry of red and gold, like a phoenix erupting from the ashes, Byulyi regained control of her broom and bolted upwards, and the Quidditch pitch erupted into cheers.

The next few seconds played out in a surreal blur: as if guided by some unseen force, she pulled a sharp turn and dove almost vertically downwards—for no one had caught the Quaffle when Byulyi dropped it, all players just as stunned as the crowd to see her get hit—and within seconds the Quaffle was back in her possession. 

At this point, it was inconceivable that she could fail. She shot a straight path to the posts—the Quaffle flew from her hand—the Slytherin Keeper dived, and missed—and then the crowd was screaming, chanting her name like a war cry.

“As always, Moon Byulyi doesn’t let us down, snagging Gryffindor’s eighteenth and her eleventh goal of the day,” Joy boomed. “Gryffindor is now in the lead with a whopping margin of a hundred and seventy points! And here’s Madam Kwon calling for a time out. See you all in a bit. _Quietus_.” 

“Fuck,” Yongsun exhaled heavily, all the tension escaping her body in a grand rush. It was only then that she realised she was half out of her seat, gripping onto the railing with white knuckles. Eric was looking at her weirdly. She slowly leaned back, trying to regain her composure. “That was scary,” she said, as matter-of-factly as she could. 

Changsub was gazing at her with interest. “I thought you didn’t care for Quidditch, Yong.” 

“I’m not a fan, but even I can’t deny that that was impressive.” 

“It really was,” Eric agreed, but his expression was still questioning. 

Chorong narrowed her eyes at her, like Yongsun was a puzzle she was trying to solve. Flustered, she turned her attention back to the pitch, where the players were slowly dismounting. It was easy to spot Byulyi, trailing behind the gaggle of red-and-gold splotches, her gleaming silver head standing out in a sea of black. There seemed to be a bit of a commotion surrounding her—she was slow to get off her broom, and when she finally did, two of her teammates shot off across the green in the opposite direction. 

“Her arm,” Yongsun breathed, when she realised. 

“Looks like it might be broken,” Changsub commented, squinting hard in the same direction. 

“She scored a goal like _that_?” Even Chorong sounded awed. 

Yongsun watched as Byulyi made her way over to the benches at the side of the pitch, right arm cradled in her left, flanked by Seulgi and another Gryffindor player. She appeared to be walking slowly, and was ushered to sit, presumably to wait for Madam Shin, the school’s matron, to be summoned. It was impossible to gauge her expression, and the severity of the injury, from the distance. 

_Typical Byulyi_ , she thought with reproach, _continuing to play even after getting hurt_. It most definitely was the work of the bludger; Yongsun briefly entertained an irrational urge to hex the Slytherin beater who had aimed it. 

A short while later, she caught sight of a flash of pink running the perimeter of the field towards where the Gryffindor team had congregated. It was Hani. The sight of her left a sour taste in Yongsun’s mouth. She looked away, and when she’d tamped down the rising annoyance in her chest enough to glance back, Byulyi was being escorted off the pitch by Madam Kwon and a clinging Hani.

Joy did nothing to disguise her disappointment when she updated the crowd that Byulyi would be replaced by reserve Kim Youngjo for the remainder of the game, as her arm was broken due to the work of Slytherin Beater Lee Suho’s Bludger. At the announcement, a chorus of hissing and booing resounded from the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff stands. 

The rest of the match was over laughably fast: even in the absence of their star player, Gryffindor managed to score another two goals in quick succession before Irene caught the snitch, probably in hopes of ending the game as soon as possible. A satisfied Joy announced Gryffindor’s win, with two hundred points to one hundred and sixty. 

\-- 

“Are you okay?” Eric asked, on the walk back to the castle. Changsub and Chorong had stayed behind to offer the Slytherin team their condolences. “You seem...preoccupied.”

“I’m fine,” Yongsun replied, a bit more sharply than she’d intended. 

Eric’s hand on her elbow tugged her to a stop, and he shifted so that they were standing face to face. His eyes were sharp and searching. “Babe… Is something wrong? I feel like things have been weird between us.” 

The early December cold was biting, and her Potions essay was waiting, and she didn’t have time for this. “There’s nothing wrong.”

“Are you sure? Because you’ve been kind of distant lately. Did I do something to upset you?” 

“Of course not. Everything’s fine, Eric, you have nothing to worry about.” She softened, seeing that the concern etched in his wrinkled brow was genuine. “I mean it. I guess I’ve been stressed about school, since assignments are piling up, and midterms are so soon. That’s probably what you’re seeing.”

Eric didn’t seem satisfied, but he at least conceded to the finality in her tone. “I suppose that might be it.” 

She gave his hand a comforting squeeze. “Don’t worry. We’re good, I promise.” 

\--

Yongsun couldn’t stop thinking about the Quidditch match. She had been looking forward to it for almost two weeks, and now that it was over, a grim, stultifying emptiness yawned before her when she apprehended the days ahead. 

But more pressing was the way her pulse sped up when she thought of Byulyi pulling out of a dive with a shit-eating grin, and the protectiveness that had bubbled up unbidden at the mere sight of Byulyi hurt, and the fact that Yongsun knew, probably better than anyone else, that behind all the bravado was a surprisingly calm, sensitive girl prone to occasional bouts of pensiveness. 

_It’s not fair_ , she thought to herself. It wasn’t fair, that the few things in life she wanted, _really_ wanted, always came at such a cost.

She finished her essay on sleeping draughts in record time, with the help of Eric’s notes. It was sloppy work, and half a roll of parchment shorter than required, but for the first time in a long while (perhaps _ever_ ), she didn’t feel up to giving a fuck. 

It was past 1 a.m. when she slipped out of bed and snuck her way out of the dorm, sleep having proven elusive. Perhaps a practice stint of defensive spell casting in the Room of Requirement might tire her out sufficiently. She was sure the Room could produce some sort of dark magical creature for her to battle against. Walking three times past the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls ballet, she thought hard about Boggarts. 

“I thought I might find you here,” a familiar voice called out from somewhere to her right, sounding pleased.

Carefully, deliberately, she turned from the slowly-forming door to see Byulyi emerge from the shadows like an unsolicited manifestation of her day’s broodings, preceded by the undoubtable sharp, fruity scent of firewhisky. 

“Were you _waiting_ for me?” 

Byulyi shrugged. “Maybe.” She was wearing navy pinstripe pyjamas, her right arm in a cloth sling. Her pale cheeks were flushed and her eyes overly bright. 

“Are you drunk?” Yongsun asked, even though the answer was obvious, but she didn’t know what else to say and needed to stall.

“What do you think?” Tossing the ball back to her. Ugh. 

“Bold of you, to be wandering the hallways in this state. Winning a Quidditch game doesn’t give you immunity to school rules, you know.” Nevermind that she too was breaking a school rule by being out of bed at this hour. 

Byulyi, however, seemed to either not register her antagonism or chose to ignore it. She waved a careless hand and countered breezily, “I just have to make sure not to get caught, then.”

“Why aren’t you in the hospital wing? Shouldn’t you be resting, with your arm like that?” 

“What’s with the twenty questions? Anyway, my arm is fine, Madam Shin fixed it up in a jiffy. It’s only just a bit sore. Technically, I don’t even need this.” And before Yongsun could stop her, she slipped her arm out of the sling and straightened it in front of her, visibly wincing as she did so. “See? Perfectly fine.” 

Yongsun grit her teeth against the urge to begin nagging at Byulyi about how she really needed to take better care of her herself; it was wiser not to. “What are you doing here?” 

Byulyi’s expression grew solemn. “I wanted to see you,” she said earnestly, sounding less wired than before. “I haven’t spoken to you in ages.” 

The confession set off an intense, unexplainable fluttering in her chest, akin to when she’d first spotted Byulyi soaring into the sky on her broom earlier that day. She steeled herself against it. “At this hour? You could have waited till tomorrow.” 

“What, and try to catch you with that Minister of Magic wannabe with the emotional range of a teaspoon who never leaves your side? I’d rather not.” 

“If you came looking for me just to insult my boyfriend, I’d much prefer you leave.” 

“Aw, Yong, you know I’m just poking fun.” When Yongsun didn’t deign her with a response, “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I won’t mention him again.” 

Before she could reply, there came the sound of distant footsteps down the corridor. 

“Let’s not get caught,” Yongsun advised hastily, reaching for the door, attention momentarily diverted. 

“Good idea.” 

Today, the Room looked suspiciously like Professor Kim’s Transfiguration classroom but with the lamps turned low. A quick once-over failed to reveal anywhere a Boggart might be hiding. Yongsun perched herself on the edge of the nearest desk, legs swinging, for want of something to do with her body. She felt jittery all over. 

To her consternation, Byulyi came to stand right before her, resting her hands just above her pyjama-clad knees with a mischievous glint in her eyes. The physical closeness was nothing compared to what Byulyi had pulled many times before, but there was something _different_ about the current look on her face. It was the look she used on pretty lowerclassmen daring enough to approach her, the one that sent them off giggling and self-satisfied, and it both irked and thrilled Yongsun to be on the receiving end of it. 

“What the hell are you doing?” she snapped, but made no move to push Byulyi away. Her whole body felt tense, hyper-aware of the gentle pressure of warm palms on her thighs. A lock of silver hair slipped from behind Byulyi’s ear to tickle her cheek; Yongsun’s fingers twitched to tuck it back in place. 

The right corner of Byulyi’s mouth lifted slyly. “Relax, Yong. I missed you, is all.” 

“You have a...strange way of showing it.” 

“Is it so strange, to want to be close to a pretty girl?” Byulyi asked, voice pitched dizzyingly low, eyes hungry, swaying forward as she deliberately kneaded her fingers into Yongsun’s flesh through the slippery silk of her pyjama pants. 

A tremor of disbelief, of anticipation, of _desire_ , danced up Yongsun’s spine. _You don’t get to play me like one of your girls_ , she wanted to cry out in defiance, but to do so would be admitting that she was vulnerable to being played in the first place. 

“Your breath stinks of alcohol.” 

That amused Byulyi—she tossed her head back and let out a bright peal of laughter, casually sliding her hands further up Yongsun’s thighs. “I tell you you’re pretty, and you tell me my breath stinks. I feel bad for Eric, if this is what he has to put up with.” 

Hearing Eric’s name coming from her mouth made Yongsun’s stomach go cold, slowed the rapid pounding of her heart. “Byul-ah…” she tried again, placing her hands over Byulyi’s, if only to stop them from moving any further. Her hands felt unnaturally cold; or maybe it was her own that were burning up. “What are you doing?” 

“Come on, Yong,” Byulyi whined, in the uninhibited way of the intoxicated, “I just want to have some fun. Celebrate my win. I even left the party in the common room for you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have.” 

She pouted; in another situation Yongsun might have found it endearing.

“But I really, really, really missed you…” 

“Stop it, Byul,” Yongsun said firmly, over the growing tightness in her chest. 

“Why?” she grumbled, petulant, but to Yongsun’s relief she finally removed her hands and backed away. 

_You’re drunk; I have a boyfriend; this would ruin our friendship for good and we’d never be able to turn back;_ _if we start anything right now I don’t think I’d be able to stop_. 

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Yongsun settled for instead. 

Without missing a beat, “Hani and I broke up.” 

“Oh.” That was news. Then, because she couldn’t help herself, and hoping the triumph didn’t show too obviously in her voice, “When?” She wasn’t very well going to say _I’m sorry_ if she didn’t mean it. 

“Today. About an hour ago, to be exact. Or wait—has it been two hours already?” 

“Oh.” 

“Is that all you have to say?” Byulyi teased. “ _Oh_?” 

“Who initiated it?”

Her expression dimmed slightly. “I did, if you must know.” 

_That_ was a surprise. “Why?” 

Byulyi groaned, throwing her head back in exaggerated exasperation. “Can we not talk about this, please?” 

But Yongsun wasn’t one to be dissuaded easily, and sensing her chance to regain the upper hand, soldiered on dispassionately. “No, tell me. Is that why you’re three sheets to the wind right now? Drowning out the sorrows?” It was cruel, and she knew it, but the words tumbled from her lips as if she had no control over them. 

Byulyi flinched away as if burned. “Why do you care? You didn’t before,” she added, with a hint of venom in her voice that Yongsun chose to ignore. 

“Am I not allowed to ask after a friend?” 

“Is that what we are? Friends?” 

“Isn’t it?” she parried, feeling her tenuous control over the situation slipping fast. 

Byulyi’s eyes flashed. “Gosh, Yong… I don’t know. You tell me. Because it feels like every time I try and reach out, you just push me away. Like…like you’re trying to get rid of me. And I have no fucking idea why. So help me—help me understand why.” 

Yongsun gaped, taken aback by the sudden, overwhelming display of bitterness—she had no idea where it was coming from. Her heart twinged when she noticed that Byulyi’s jaw was clenched tight, as if in pain. 

But almost just as soon, her empathy was replaced by a surge of anger. They hadn’t spoken properly in weeks, and _this_ was how Byulyi greeted her? With a cheap, drunken attempt at seduction and baseless accusations? 

“You’re completely overreacting,” she said stiffly. “Why would I be trying to _get rid of you_? If this—if this is about us not meeting in a while, then, well, we’ve both been busy. You didn’t have time for me either. It’s not all on me.” 

“ _I’m_ overreacting? Tell me, does Eric know that we know each other? No, scratch that—since you probably don’t tell him anything anyway—how about Chorong? And Changsub? Do either of your _best friends_ know that we hung out once every week for the entirety of third year?” 

When Yongsun didn’t—couldn’t—reply, Byulyi continued, with a kind of quiet, pained satisfaction, “It’s like you’re ashamed to know me.” 

“That’s not true,” she replied helplessly, “You know why I keep us a secret. I’ve told you before. You said you understood.” 

“I thought I did. But the more I thought about it, the more crazy it sounded.” Byulyi squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath. When she reopened them, her eyes were suspiciously shiny. “And god, I just—I hate that I’ve been making myself feel so goddamn _small_ just to fit into your life.” 

Guilt and despair and dread swelled in her chest, squeezing tight like a vice. “Byul…” she began, voice thick from the growing lump in her throat. “You’re drunk, it’s late, can we please talk about this another time.” 

It was like she hadn’t heard her. “Yong,” Byulyi said, almost begging, “you need to stop lying to yourself.” 

And that… That hit hard, hurt more than anything else had. And because Yongsun was a Slytherin through and through, because the instinct to protect herself was so ingrained in her that it was practically a _compulsion_ , she said what she said next. 

“That’s rich coming from you, considering that you spend half your life flirting and sleeping with girls who don’t give a shit about you. Hani included. You think I can’t see that you only do it because you think their attention proves to you that you’re a good person? A worthy person? Well, don’t believe for a second that they love you, or even care about you. To them, you’re just a pretty face, a popularity boost, and a good fuck. So yeah, _you_ take a good look at yourself first, before you come for me with that lying-to-myself bullshit.” 

The rush of vitriol left her slightly breathless. She had crossed an invisible line, one she’d always been careful to toe, and it didn’t matter that she regretted it instantly. The damage was done.

 _It’s over,_ she thought numbly, hating herself, _it’s all over now._

Byulyi looked like she was going to be sick. Her voice was almost unrecognisable when she finally spoke, so threaded through was it with defeat.

“Unnie... Do you hate me?” Her voice cracked on the last word.

When she blinked, twin streaks of tears ran down her cheeks. 

Later, Yongsun told herself that no one could have blamed her for doing what she did next—if ever they’d been witness to Byulyi’s vulnerable, broken gaze, or to her tears—they would understand. 

She closed the distance between them in a breath, ignoring Byulyi’s small noise of shock as she crushed her lips to hers. 

For a horrible second she thought Byulyi might pull away—but then she was kissing her back, greedy and urgent, like a drowning woman clinging on to a lifeline, like she knew her time was running out. And Yongsun—she gave as good as she got.

There was no finesse in it; all twisting tongues and clashing teeth and wet breaths, rough and insatiable like they each had a point to prove, and perhaps they did. 

Byulyi’s lips were fuller, and softer, than Eric’s. Yongsun liked that she had to tilt her head up only just slightly. She liked that Byulyi fit so naturally in her arms, as Yongsun did in hers. 

Byulyi tasted like salt and firewhisky. She tasted like possibility, dangerous and alluring. 

It would be too easy, Yongsun knew, to let all her painstakingly erected boundaries fall, let herself go, and just _take_ and _be_ and care about no one else, and nothing else. It would be far too easy, and that was exactly why she couldn’t do it. 

Yongsun tore away with a gasp, stumbling backwards hard into the edge of the desk. She felt the bruise forming on her hip as she tried to catch her breath. Her hands were wet with Byulyi’s tears. 

“I can’t do this.” The confession, after the kiss, was a knife in the back. 

Byulyi’s hair was mussed up, her lips shiny and red, cheeks flushed. Her eyes were wide and exhausted. “You can’t, or you won’t?” 

Yongsun couldn’t help a small, bitter laugh. “Is there a difference?” 

“Yongsun,” Byulyi said, emotionless, and somehow that was worse than her despair, “What do you want from me?” Then, “Do I even mean anything to you at all?” 

The truth was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it, because if she did then…all _this_ became real, and everything would fall apart.

Yongsun had never claimed to be brave; that was Byulyi’s prerogative. 

_I’m sorry,_ she thought, and fled from the room. 

She didn’t get any sleep that night. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Byulyi: her broken, betrayed expression; her body small and strangely fragile in her dark silk pyjamas. So she lay unmoving, staring up at the hangings of her four poster bed, listening to the lapping of lake water against the windows. Her lips burned till morning. 

\--

Yongsun broke up with Eric the next day. It should have been sad, how easy the decision was, considering the sheer amount of energy she’d expended over the past one year on trying to persuade herself that she was in love with him. Instead, she just felt relief. It was the right thing to do. 

He took it better than she had expected—which wasn’t saying much, since she’d braced herself for hysterics—for which she was thankful. And perhaps also a tiny bit hurt… But that was just her ego speaking.

As she kept telling herself, it was the right thing to do. 

Once Eric got past the initial shock and confusion (and very briefly, denial), and composed himself sufficiently, he met her gaze anew with a steely expression she had never before seen on his benign, handsomely genial features. 

“Is there someone else?”

The question was so unexpected that she was struck dumb for a few seconds. 

She didn’t have to feign the defensiveness in her reply. “Of course not. Why would you think that?” 

“Everytime we were together over the past few weeks—it seemed like your mind was elsewhere. I thought that maybe it had been with someone else.” 

“Well,” she said, swallowing hard, “you thought wrong.” 

“Then why?” 

“I just. I do care for you. But I realised that what I feel for you... It isn’t love.” 

“Was it ever?”

“...I don’t think so. God, I know I should have been honest with you sooner. And with myself, too. I’m sorry, Eric. I really am.” Finally she was telling the truth, and it made her feel like a terrible human being. 

Eric cocked his head to the side consideringly. “You know, when I first met you, I thought you were like me.”

“And what is that?”

He thought for a few moments. “Logical. Ambitious. But over time, I realised I was wrong.” 

“Oh,” she said wonderingly. Then, despite herself, “What changed?” 

“A combination of things. But I remember that day, at the lake—you were writing that essay on Veritaserum, and I asked you what you would do if you ever got hold of some. What you would try to find out. But you said you had no personal use for it. I asked why, and you told me that you would be too afraid to use it.” 

It took her some while to recall the incident he was referring to. “I see,” she said at last. “How about you?”

“How about me, what?” 

“Do you—did you—love me?” 

“I did. But I’ll get over it.” 

Now it was her turn to appraise him. She looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. The downturned eyes that made him look like he was smiling even when he wasn’t; the slightly too-large ears that contributed to his endearing, boy-next-door charm, despite him being one of the most intelligent and capable wizards enrolled in Hogwarts at the moment.

She realised that Byulyi was right about one thing—Yongsun had underestimated him. For the first time, she felt a twinge of regret. What could they have been in another place, at another time? 

“Well. Then I guess we’re both not what we thought of each other.” 

A wry smile appeared on his face. “I suppose not.” 

She felt like they’d finally reached an understanding. She returned the smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don’t hate Yong! The Yong in this ‘verse is very precious to me ㅠㅠ. The following chapters will switch POV between Yong/Byul, and skip between different times in their term at Hogwarts. 
> 
> Do note that I know next to nothing about the real-life counterparts of most of the side characters in this fic, so any and all characterisation choices have been made purely to further the story and do not at all reflect on the real individuals—the latter also holds true for OT4! 
> 
> Leave a kudo, comment, and subscribe if you enjoyed (:


	2. byul, first year

The two girls huddled together quietly on the platform looked nervous; but also defensive, as if they would vehemently deny their nervousness to anyone who dared point it out.

The shorter girl was dressed in Hogwarts robes, while the taller one wore only Muggle clothes, but otherwise they looked remarkably alike. Sisters, definitely. Byulyi wondered why their parents had left them on the platform alone. 

They were a serene island amidst the bustle and chaos of Platform 9¾ on the first day of term: new students and their fussing families; returning students hollering and weaving through the crowd on the lookout for their friends; the screeches of owls, annoyed at being locked in their cages, peppering the din. 

The younger girl said something to her sister, who replied by taking her hand—a gesture of comfort—and offering a reassuring smile. But the way she was subtly rocking back and forth, toe to heel to toe to heel, gave her away. 

Byulyi could relate. She had spent countless nights dreaming about what House she might be sorted into, entertained grand illusions of becoming a Prefect or getting onto the Quidditch team, fantasized about stumbling into the love of her life along one of the castle’s innumerable corridors, just like her parents had… But now the day was actually here, and the prospect of moving away from home and not seeing her family for months at a time suddenly seemed terribly daunting. 

Her mother noticed her staring. 

“Why don’t you go and talk to her, dear?” 

“Oh.” The thought had not crossed her mind. 

“She can be your first new friend,” her father added encouragingly. 

They both had wide, expectant smiles on their faces. 

She looked over at the girl again, who was now fiddling with her trunk. She looked down. “Maybe later.” She felt her father’s hand ruffle her hair, the way he often did; it usually annoyed her ( _I’m not a child anymore, Dad_ ), but today she let him do it, and wondered for the umpteenth time how he could always tell when she was nervous, even if she didn’t know it herself. 

She felt emotional, suddenly, and wondered if it wasn’t too late to call Hogwarts off, leave King’s Cross, and head back home to her sisters and her owls and her best friend Minji, magical education be damned. 

“...Muggle-born, probably,” her mother was saying, “The poor thing looks overwhelmed.” 

Byulyi’s ears perked up. “Who?” 

“The girl you were watching, over there. Everything must be so foreign to her. Imagine living among Muggles your whole life, and then suddenly coming into the world of magic! I would be so intimidated.” 

“She looks like she could use some company,” her father supplied meaningfully. 

Byulyi rolled her eyes. “I’m not a kid anymore, guys, I know what you’re trying to do.” 

They both laughed. “It was worth a try,” her father teased, ruffling her hair again fondly, and this time she ducked out of his reach. 

Nonetheless. She eyed the two sisters with renewed fascination. She had seen Muggle families before, of course, and she knew many magical families like her own, but she’d never before met one with mixed magical abilities. Now that her mother had pointed it out, it was obvious that the older girl wasn’t magical—Byulyi could tell (and not just from her clothes), though if pressed she wouldn’t be able to explain how. 

Her mother was speaking. “Dear, didn’t Yerin say she would sit with you on the train? Have you seen her anywhere? And where’s Hyerim and Junghoon for that matter, Hyerim said she was going to pass me the self-heating cauldron she bought at Ceridwen’s, the one she claims can brew potions without a flame—saves the trouble of cleaning up the soot, you see… Though how she would be lugging it around in this crowd, I do not know…” 

Yerin was her cousin, who was currently going through a snotty third year phase, and Byulyi wasn’t particularly enthused about the idea of sitting with her and her likely equally snotty friends for the entire train ride to Hogwarts. 

“I’m gonna go say hi,” she said to no one in particular, and before her parents could respond she was making a beeline for the two sisters. 

They noticed her approaching and nudged each other, staring at her warily. 

Byulyi came to a nervous stop in front of her new schoolmate-to-be, whose robes were slightly too large, but crisp and obviously brand new. She suddenly felt conscious of her own hand-me-down robes; they were ones Yerin had outgrown, and were slightly faded despite her mother’s best effort at a colour-changing charm (which didn’t seem to work well on old fabrics). The right sleeve was also fraying slightly at the hem.

“Hi!” she began, and somewhat anxiously realised that she had no idea what to say next. “Um, what’s your name? I mean, I’m Byulyi. Moon Byulyi.” Her palms were growing sweaty with embarrassment. 

“Kim Yongsun,” the girl answered slowly, after a pause.

“And I’m her older sister, Yonghee,” the older one piped up more bravely. She looked extremely grown-up in her cut-off jeans, lip gloss, and long shiny hair. She was tall and slim and very pretty—Byulyi felt suddenly shy, and had to make a conscious effort to not stare for too long. 

“Are you a student at Hogwarts too?” Yonghee enunciated the word _Hogwarts_ very clearly, as if taking great care to pronounce it right. 

Byulyi nodded enthusiastically. “I’m a first year—like you!” The last part was addressed to Yongsun, whose eyes widened. 

“How could you tell?” 

_You look like a Kelpie out of water_ was on the tip of her tongue, but she realised it might be rude to say so. “You...look really young,” she said instead, lamely. 

It was true, though—with her chubby cheeks and round eyes, Yongsun looked hardly old enough to be enrolled in Hogwarts. Nevermind that she was taller than Byulyi ( _you’ll grow, you’re just a late bloomer,_ Byulyi’s mother always told her affectionately, and there was no choice other than to believe it and hope for the best). 

Yonghee snickered, but her sister looked slightly affronted. 

“Anyway,” Byulyi said hurriedly, “Where are your parents?” 

It was, once again, the wrong thing to say. Both girls blanched, and a brief, tense pause ensued. 

“They couldn’t make it,” Yonghee eventually replied. “They’re busy today. That’s why they got me to send her off instead.” 

Yongsun didn’t say anything. She looked almost unhappy, and Byulyi was at a loss for what to do next.

She was starting to wish she were back standing with her parents...but it would be rude to turn around now and see where they were, wouldn’t it? 

“What about you?” Yonghee asked brightly, obviously trying to diffuse the tension. “Are you here with your family?”

Byulyi replied eagerly, grateful for the question. “Yeah! They’re around her somewhere…” She cast about in the crowd for her parents, but to no avail. “I think they went to look for my aunt and cousin.”

“Oh! Does your cousin go to Hogwarts too?”

“Uh-huh. She’s in her third year now. All of my cousins have been to Hogwarts, actually, but the rest have already graduated.” 

Yongsun finally spoke again. “Is your whole family—I mean, can they _all_ do magic?” 

Byulyi nodded. “Oh but, my little sister hasn’t shown any signs of magic yet. She’s only one though, so there’s still lots of time. But my _other_ sister—she’s nine now—her hair started changing colour the moment she was born! So we knew straight away.” 

Yongsun was intrigued. “What about you? When did you find out?”

“It happened for me when I was five. I, um, made another kid burp farts.” Byulyi felt her cheeks redden, the way they always did when someone asked her about when she'd first presented. 

It was an embarrassing story: the kid in question had pushed Minji over in the sandpit and made her cry, and Byulyi had gotten so furious that she'd begun thinking up the most awful curse she could conceive of, to place on him the moment she was old enough to have her own wand. The next thing she knew, Hansoo was grabbing at his throat in terror, gagging as he belched up a great stink. She had been horrified at first—but it didn’t seem so bad, once Minji stopped crying and burst into giggles at the sight. 

Her parents had been called down to the daycare, but they didn’t seem to mind very much. Her father gave her a pat on the shoulder, her mother treated her to tanghulu after dinner that night, and Hansoo never bothered Minji again. All in all, a favourable outcome. But still—it was kind of a silly story to tell. 

Yonghee and Yongsun, however, were gazing at her in fascination. “What happened after that?” 

Mrs Yoon, the daycare teacher (who hadn’t seemed to mind much either), had whipped up a potion to stop Hanwoo’s burp-farts. Byulyi revealed as much. “He was perfectly fine afterwards,” she assured them, just in case they were worried she had damaged him permanently. 

“Wow,” Yongsun breathed, her eyes glowing with excitement. “That’s really cool.” 

Both sisters were staring with awed, wondering expressions on their faces, and it made Byulyi feel shy but pleased. 

“What about you? When did you find out you were magical?” 

The sisters exchanged a glance. “We didn’t know,” Yonghee explained. “We only found out when Yongsun got her Hogwarts letter. She’s the first person we know to have gotten it.” 

“If there were any signs...I didn’t know to look for them.” Yongsun added, sounding disappointed. She hesitated, and her voice was small when she next spoke. “Everything here feels so new, and so... _different._ ” 

It was curious how Yongsun seemed so much younger than her older sister, though there couldn’t have been more than three years between them. The anxious pout on her face was unexpectedly endearing—it made Byulyi feel strangely protective. 

“You can stick with me,” Byulyi told her earnestly. “I can tell you everything you need to know, you don’t have to worry.” Then, feeling daring, “We can sit together on the train, if you want?” 

Yongsun’s whole face turned pink. “That would be nice,” she said bashfully. 

Byulyi felt her chest fill up with importance. “First things first, we should get your trunk on the train.” She grabbed Yongsun’s trolley and started leading the way to the empty carriages at the end of the train, weaving past a cluster of whooping boys scrambling about the platform trying to catch a loose chocolate frog. 

Once Yongsun's trunk was stowed securely, Byulyi heard her name being called. She turned to see her parents approaching, her father staggering slightly as he lugged an enormous pewter cauldron in front him. It was covered in feathery cracks and whistling feebly. Faint wisps of steam were rising from the rim, even though there was no discernible heat source in sight. 

“Is that Aunt Hyerim’s special cauldron?” Byulyi asked dubiously. “It doesn’t look like it can brew anything without falling apart.” 

“Well, we’ll just have to wait to try it out, won’t we?” her mother said bracingly. “Do you want to know what your aunt said to me, though?” she added crossly, obviously not expecting an answer. “She said it was _irresponsible_ to leave your sisters alone at home! The nerve of her! What does she expect me to do, carry around a one year old in this racket? And as if Seulgi doesn’t know what to do in case the garden gnomes try to burrow into the kitchen again. Honestly, it’s no wonder Yerin turned out like this, if her mother—” 

“Honey,” her father cut in placatingly. 

“But that’s enough about that. Your father and I almost thought we lost you, Byulyi! I don’t remember the platform ever being this crowded back in our day, my goodness. Anyway,” and here her brisk demeanour morphed into a warm smile as she turned to Yongsun and Yonghee, “who are your new friends?” 

“This is Yongsun, she’s a first year like me, and this is her sister Yonghee.” 

The Yong sisters looked mildly intimidated, but murmured polite greetings. 

Her mother’s smile widened. “It’s lovely to meet you, dears. Is this your first time on the platform? Are your mum and dad not here with you?”

“They couldn’t make it,” Yonghee answers, more smoothly than before. “And yes, this is our first time.” 

“Everything must be rather overwhelming,” she clucked sympathetically, “but I hope my Byulyi has been a good guide?” 

“Mum…” Byulyi groaned. 

Yongsun piped up. “Yes, she showed us where to put my trunk.” 

Her mother turned her smile onto Byulyi. “That’s very kind of you, dear.” 

Byulyi, feeling embarrassed, tried to change the topic. “Yongsun and I are going to sit together on the train.”

“That’s lovely! Oh, but what about Yerin? She wasn’t with Hyerim and Junghoon when I spoke to them earlier...” 

“She’s with her friends,” Byulyi said decisively, since it was very likely true even though she didn’t know for sure, “and I don’t think they’d want to sit with a couple of first years.” 

Her father wandered into the conversation. “Sorry to interrupt, but I think you girls had better be getting on the train soon; it’s about to leave in five minutes.” 

The announcement took Byulyi by shock. _So soon_? She and Yongsun exchanged a brief panicked glance, before whirling around to their respective families. 

“I’ll miss you,” she blurted, looking anxiously between her parents, “and I’ll write often. Help me tell Seulgi and Yesol that I’ll miss them, and I’ll write them too. I mean, not to Yesol, obviously—but I’ll write to Seulgi, of course.” 

A queer expression had come over her father’s face. He dropped the cauldron noisily to the ground (there was an ominous crack), held his arms open, and she rushed into them. His embrace was warm and smelled faintly of laundry powder, and she inhaled deeply, trying to commit the scent to memory. 

“My little girl’s growing up,” he said gruffly, and the words made her cling tighter. 

She was the first to pull away, after a few long moments, feeling slightly awkward now that her earlier rush of emotion had lost some of its intensity. She turned to her mother, whose smile was wistful but proud. 

“We’ll miss you very much, dear. Hogwarts will be lucky to have you,” she said, bending down to give her a light kiss on the crown of her head. 

For the first time in her life, Byulyi wished that her mother was one to fuss. Though maybe it was for the best that she wasn’t, because if she _did_ fuss then Byulyi wasn’t sure if she would be able to make herself get onto the train at all. 

“Time to go,” her father prompted gently. 

Byulyi turned to the Yong sisters, who were murmuring to each other quietly with their foreheads pressed close. When they finally pulled apart, she saw that Yongsun looked even more stricken than Byulyi felt. 

_It must be even scarier for her,_ Byulyi realised, and decided that she had to be the brave one. 

“Let’s go,” she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt, “we should find a compartment before they all get filled up.” 

Yongsun nodded obediently, and followed her as they climbed into a carriage that looked comparatively empty. They hovered around the door, waving to Byulyi’s parents and Yonghee. 

“Take care of my sister for me, Byulyi,” Yonghee called out teasingly (to which Yongsun protested “unnie!”). 

Byulyi nodded, flustered by both her newly assigned responsibility and hearing Yonghee say her name. “I will,” she promised. 

“Write us once you’ve settled in,” Byulyi’s father said, his eyes oddly bright, “And take care of yourselves, girls!” 

Then there was a loud whistle, and the guards were coming round to slam the doors shut, and within no time at all the scarlet steam engine was pulling smoothly out of station. By unspoken agreement, Byulyi and Yongsun found their way to an empty compartment. 

“Are you okay?” Byulyi ventured cautiously, after a few silent minutes had passed with Yongsun gazing somberly out the window at the scenery zipping past. 

Yongsun nodded unconvincingly.

“I miss home too,” Byulyi admitted, “but imagine how exciting it’ll be once we get to Hogwarts, and start learning how to use magic! And there’ll be Quidditch matches to watch, and Hogsmeade to visit, and feasts in the Great Hall…” She trailed off, realising that Yongsun was looking increasingly confused the more she went on. 

“Sorry,” she said, cursing herself for her insensitivity, “I forgot that you probably don’t know much about Hogwarts yet.”

Yongsun shook her head. “It’s okay.” 

Just as Byulyi was trying to figure out what to say next, she felt a faint flurry of movement against her chest, and then Yongsun was gasping and pointing, squealing, “Who’s that?!”

Byulyi looked down to see Daebak’s tiny white-and-brown head sticking out of her front pocket, his pink nose twitching sleepily. She fished him out for Yongsun to see; he curled up into a round ball on her palm, staring up placidly at Yongsun with his whiskers twitching. 

“Yongsun, this is Daebak. Daebak, meet Yongsun.”

“He’s adorable,” Yongsun cooed in delight. Her entire top row of teeth showed when she smiled, and dimples appeared at the corners of her mouth. It was a pleasant change, Byulyi thought with satisfaction, from her despondence of before. “Can I hold him?”

“Sure. Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite.” She deposited Daebak into Yongsun’s hand, where he wriggled and sniffed around for a bit before resuming his previous position. 

“He’s so calm,” Yongsun said in wonder, stroking his back with one finger. 

“Nah, he’s just too fat and too lazy to try to run away.” 

Yongsun laughed. “He’s cute like this. Are you allowed to keep him? I thought only cats and toads and owls were allowed.”

“That’s what they say in the letter, but my mum kept a miniature Diricawl for all seven years she was in Hogwarts and no one ever did anything about it. So I think Daebak and I should be safe.”

“What’s a Diricawl?” Yongsun asked interestedly.

“I think you might know it as…” Byulyi frowned, trying to remember the name. “The Dodo bird?” 

“But the Dodo’s extinct!”

“That’s what you lot think! But the truth is, they’re just _really_ good at disappearing when they want to. My mum said that Sa-ra would sometimes go missing for weeks at a time. Come to think of it, perhaps that’s why she never got caught…” 

Yongsun processed this, a look of tickled amazement coming over her face as she handed Daebak back to Byulyi, who plopped him back in her pocket—he was falling asleep again.

Byulyi liked that the daunted expression on Yongsun’s face had faded. _I did that_ , she thought with pride. 

“Your mum seems really cool. And so does your dad. Did he go to Hogwarts too?”

Byulyi nodded. “They met in Hogwarts, actually!” The mention of her parents suddenly reminded her of what she’d wanted to ask. “By the way, have you thought about which House you’d like to be in?” 

“House?” 

“Don’t you know about the Houses?” At Yongsun’s shake of her head, she continued, thrilled at the thought of getting to introduce her new friend to the most exciting part of starting school. 

“At Hogwarts, everyone is sorted into a House, which basically becomes your family for the rest of your time in Hogwarts. There are four different Houses, and each House is known for different things. Like, Gryffindors are chosen for being brave, and Hufflepuff are always really loyal. You’re chosen based on what traits or qualities you have, you see. 

“My dad was a Hufflepuff, and my mum was a Gryffindor, so I think I’ll probably be either one of those two.”

“Oh! Does it run in the family, then?” 

“Well, my cousin Yerin is in Ravenclaw, and both _her_ parents were in Ravenclaw. Ravenclaws are known for being super smart, by the way. Well, maybe not Yerin... But anyway. My other cousin, he was in Gryffindor even though his dads were from Hufflepuff, so I guess it doesn’t always follow. You don’t have to worry,” she added, “everyone gets sorted into a House, no matter if their parents were from Hogwarts or not.”

“You said there were four Houses—what’s the last one?” 

“Oh, Slytherin.”

Yongsun didn’t miss the way her voice lowered at the name. “What’s wrong with Slytherin?” she asked curiously. 

Byulyi shook her head darkly. “Something about Slytherin puts me on edge. Slytherins are famous for being ambitious, and cunning, and really protective of their House secrets. Plus, almost all the wizards and witches who turned to the dark side have been from Slytherin.”

“Dark side?” Yongsun echoed, sounding slightly alarmed. 

“There’s a branch of magic known as the dark arts. Evil, nasty stuff, curses and dark artefacts and the lot. But we won’t touch any of that in Hogwarts, it’s forbidden.”

Seeing that Yongsun’s eyes had widened in trepidation, she added, “You don’t have to worry too much about it. Hogwarts is really safe, the teachers watch over everything and will stamp out any funny business the moment they get whiff of it.” 

Yongsun seemed reassured. “So how do we get our Houses? Do the teachers choose?”

“No, the hat does.”

“The _hat_?” 

“The Sorting Hat! You put it on your head, and it, I dunno, reads your mind or something, and decides where you belong.” 

Yongsun looked worried. “What if it puts me in Slytherin?”

“It won’t,” Byulyi said confidently. “You’re _far_ too nice for that. Besides, they don’t take in Muggle-borns anyway.” 

“Muggo _-whats_?”

“Muggle-borns. That’s what we call magical people who have non-magical parents. Non-magical people are called Muggles, you see.” 

Yongsun absorbed this. “Why doesn’t Slytherin take in Muggle-borns?”

“Slytherin’s always had this whole awful blood purity thing going on. They think that magical people are better than Muggles, and that people with Muggle ancestry are undeserving of magic somehow. It’s all nonsense, really. Of course, they _claim_ it’s not like that anymore. No one in my family has ever been in Slytherin, so I wouldn’t know for sure, and my dad always says it’s wrong to assume the worst of people...but I’d be careful of them,” she concluded ominously. 

Yongsun wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like the sound of that.” 

“Right? The other Houses are all perfectly fine with Muggle-borns, though, so you have nothing to worry about.” 

Yongsun's expression was serious. “I hope we end up in the same House,” she said fervently.

Byulyi beamed, a pleased thrill running through her. “I hope so too. We can go for classes and study together and everything. Oh, and my family has an owl—you can borrow Haengwoon to send letters home to Yonghee-unnie and your mum and dad, if you want. My parents won’t mind.” 

And—there it was again—that torn, uncertain expression. Something told Byulyi that it was due to more than just homesickness, and for a few seconds she debated whether or not to ask. Concern won out. 

“Yongsun,” she began tentatively, “is there something bothering you?” 

Yongsun bit her lip. 

“My parents didn’t want me to go to Hogwarts,” she said in a rush, as if it took her a lot to admit it. “They didn’t want me to learn magic.” 

“Oh.” Byulyi was stunned. The notion of a magical person not being allowed to do magic was near unthinkable. “Why not? What happened?” 

“I got my Hogwarts letter a year ago, actually, but my parents were really against it, so we wrote back saying no thank you. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and this year another letter came! Professor Uhm—I don’t know if you know who she is?—she delivered it herself, and she even came in and sat down to properly tell us all about, well, everything, really. About the wizarding world, and what wizards and witches learn at Hogwarts, and what my future might be like if I enrolled...and I could tell my mum and dad still didn’t like the idea. But at that time I really, really, _really_ wanted to do it. So I said so, and… Well. We argued for a bit. Or, more like a lot. And I...I don’t know. It was like something in me couldn’t let go of the idea? I just knew that this was something I needed to do. 

“Yonghee was on my side, which helped, and it took a whole month, almost, but in the end they agreed to let me try out for one year. That’s why I’m here. But now, I can’t stop wondering if maybe I made the wrong choice.” 

Yongsun’s unexpected confession tumbled forth all at once, in a breathless rush of jittery distress. She looked slightly stunned, as if she hadn't expected herself to divulge so much. It was the most Byulyi had heard from her that day, and it too took her completely by surprise. 

“Oh god I’m sorry, I don’t why I told you all that, I shouldn’t trouble you with—”

“No!” Byulyi interrupted passionately. “No,” she repeated more calmly, “it’s fine. I’m _glad_ you told me. You shouldn’t have to keep that all to yourself.” Her brain was working hard, trying to process everything. “So, what happens after one year?” 

“I don’t know. I guess they might look at my grades. Maybe if I do really well, they’ll be more convinced to let me stay.”

“That sounds like an awful lot of pressure,” she said tentatively. 

Yongsun shrugged helplessly.

“Why don’t they want you to learn magic?” 

“It scares them, I suppose. They know nothing about it, after all.” 

“And it doesn’t scare _you_?”

Yongsun thought about it briefly, then shook her head. “No. When I read the letter for the first time...something just clicked. I don’t really know how to explain it, but. It felt right. Now though...now I’m not so sure. I guess I didn’t expect everything to be so different. One year didn’t seem like that big a deal at first…” she trailed off desolately. 

Byulyi thought very hard, and very carefully, about what to say next. “I think you made the right choice.” 

Yongsun cocked her head to the side. “Why?” 

“You said you knew that this was something you needed to do. And that it felt _right_. And I think...I think that that’s the most important thing. That’s the only thing that matters, really.”

“But how can that be?” Yongsun countered, unconvinced. “Aren’t there other things to consider, too?” 

Byulyi thought about the near-desperation she’d seen in Yongsun's face, and the conviction that emerged in her voice, when she spoke about wanting to know magic. “Of course there are. But to know so—so _clearly,_ that you want something this much—not everyone gets to have that.” 

Had Byulyi ever? She couldn’t recall wanting anything badly enough that she would leave home against her parent’s wishes for it. “And that’s something really, really special. That's why you have to trust yourself.” 

“But what if I’m wrong?” Yongsun asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

“You have _magic_ in you," Byulyi said passionately, all her nerves her fired up now, "and magic can’t be hidden away. It just can't. It _shouldn't_. And it’ll always find its way to you, and you to it.” 

She didn’t know how she knew all this; she just _did_. Magic was so inescapably integral, was such a huge part of what defined her that she couldn’t even begin to imagine herself without it. 

She was sure, without a doubt, that it would one day be the same for Yongsun too. 

Byulyi could tell that Yongsun was hanging on to her every word, and in that moment she felt the weight of momentous responsibility come to rest on her shoulders. 

“If you can’t trust yourself, then trust the magic in you,” she continued resolutely. “Hogwarts is where you belong, Yongsun. You’re gonna make a great witch someday.”

Something changed, almost imperceptibly, in Yongsun’s expression. “You really think so?” 

Yongsun’s unwavering gaze was fixed onto hers. And for just a split second—beyond the childlike, innocent features and gently furrowed brow—Byulyi glimpsed in her eyes a flash of unflinching single-mindedness that both frightened and entranced her. 

But then she blinked, and it was gone, and the Yongsun before her was the same girl as before, sweet cheeks framed girlishly by long, dark hair. Byulyi half-wondered if she had imagined it.

She didn’t have to think before answering. “I’m sure of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was slightly appalled when I finished writing this chapter and realised that it was, essentially, almost 5k words of continuous dialogue… But I couldn’t quite bring myself to revamp it, so, here ya go 😬 
> 
> As always, would love comments if you have any (:


	3. yong, fourth year

Professor Yoo returned their antidote essays at the end of Potions class a week later. When Yongsun flipped to the end of her essay, there was a scrawled 69.7/100 (the worst she’d scored in her time at Hogwarts thus far), and a comment in Professor Yoo’s spidery hand that read: 

_You made an interesting point about how adopting the stirring techniques necessary for brewing the Draught of Living Death might be able to augment the potency of a Sleeping Draught, but overall this essay lacks depth and elaboration. I expect more, and hope to see clearer work from you in the future._

It wasn’t like she had expected any better, but it bruised all the same. 

She packed up quickly—snatching her essay away from the scrutiny of her compulsively competitive Ravenclaw deskmate—and waited for Chorong and Changsub to join her outside the classroom. 

“You guys go on to lunch without me, I think I want to head to the Owlery for a bit.” 

“We can come with you,” Changsub offered immediately. “It’s not too far a walk from here.” 

That was a blatant untruth—Potions was in the dungeons, while the Owlery was all the way over in the West Tower—but Changsub and Chorong had been hovering over her, not unlike fretting mother hens, for the whole of the past week. 

It was sweet of them to worry, and Yongsun was touched, except that it kind of put a damper on things to know that they assumed her subdued mood was a result of her break up with Eric. She was grateful, of course, but wished they would stop being so kind. They had no idea what she had done, what she was capable of. They didn’t know that she’d been lying to them too, all this while. 

“It’s fine, I might take a while.” 

“Are you sure—” 

To Yongsun’s relief, Chorong cut him off, taking Changsub firmly by the elbow. “We’ll see you in the Great Hall, then?”

“Sure, see ya.” 

A gaggle of Ravenclaw second years caught sight of her as she passed through the courtyard on her way to the Owlery, and began whispering to each other in unsubtle excitement. Yongsun resisted the urge to speed up past them—despite everything, she still had her pride. 

It grated to know that the whole school knew about her and Eric. Not that she cared, really, about what everyone thought, but it served as a constant reminder that Byulyi definitely also knew. That, along with the memory of what had passed in the Room of Requirement that night, induced in her a desolate combination of nausea and dread that she wasn’t looking forward to unpacking.

She knew she would have to eventually, though. Her ability to set complicated emotions aside and carry on with her obligations undisturbed, whenever the occasion called for it, had taken a serious hit over the course of the past week. These days, she went around with the inescapable, persistent sensation of having swallowed a bucket of flesh-eating slugs that were currently making slow but sure work of her insides. 

It was foreign and terrifying—but at least only in a distant, numbed way—how affected she was. 

Perhaps it wasn’t so much that she didn’t _want_ to unpack her feelings, but more that she hadn’t the slightest clue how to. 

She was distracted from her thoughts by the intensifying chill as she ascended up the West Tower, and pulled her cloak tightly around herself against the wind. 

It was almost just as drafty inside the Owlery, which was permeated with the faint stench of owl droppings that littered the straw-covered stone floor. A tiny white-and-grey owl hooted happily at the sight of her, taking off from its perch to come and rest on her outstretched hand. 

“Hey, Jjing.” 

Jjing Jjing ruffled her feathers and chirped in delight when Yongsun stroked her head, hopping up and down in excitement. She was probably going stir-crazy in the Owlery; Yongsun had bought her at the start of third year with the intention of having her send letters home, but realised too late, and with much chagrin, that scops owls could only travel short distances and deliver locally, rendering her original plan out of the question. 

Byulyi liked to tease her about it, adding it to her list of things she claimed exemplified Yongsun’s _yeba_ -ness (the nickname, meaning “pretty idiot”, had been fondly bestowed upon her early on in their friendship). 

Nevertheless, for the past year or so, Jjing Jjing had been entrusted with the weighty responsibility of covertly delivering messages between Yongsun and Byulyi, which she always seemed thrilled to do. But that was now over, and Yongsun didn’t quite know what to do with her anymore. She felt bad that she hadn’t visited her in the owlery for so long. 

“Sorry Jjing, I don’t have a letter for you,” she told her regretfully. Jjing Jjing chirped sadly, large yellow eyes filled with disappointment. 

“I’m really sorry,” she repeated guiltily. 

Jjing Jjing must have keyed in to her distress, for she hopped further up Yongsun’s arm to give her a few comforting pecks on the shoulder, hooting bravely as if to say _don’t worry, I’ll be fine_. 

Owls were simple, Yongsun thought ruefully as she scratched the back of Jjing Jjing’s head, feeling as if she was petting a particularly tiny, feathery cat. They demanded so little of you, and were easily pleased with the occasional show of affection. They didn’t hold anything against you. 

Still, she thought she owed Jjing Jjing an explanation. 

“There won’t be anything to deliver to Byulyi for a while, I’m afraid,” she informed her seriously. 

Jjing Jjing tilted her head as if to ask, _why?_

“We had a bit of an argument, you see,” Yongsun explained levelly. “Well, more like a really big one. I don’t know if she ever wants to speak to me again. But,” she added, her voice beginning to waver, “I’ll let you know if I ever need you to deliver a message to her in the future.” 

Jjing Jjing surveyed her for a long while with her shrewd owl eyes, before nuzzling into her shoulder again, purring softly. 

“Good girl,” Yongsun murmured, feeling oddly touched. 

It was getting late, and she would have to head back down to the castle now if she wanted to squeeze in lunch before History of Magic, but the prospect of returning to the routine hubbub of school life, when she currently felt so unmoored, felt suddenly unbearable. 

The Owlery, despite the smell and the cold, was a safe haven. So she found a relatively cleaner spot by one of the glassless windows that faced away from the worst of the draft, kicked away a stray mouse skeleton, and sat down with her knees pulled to her chest and Jjing Jjing perched on them. From here, she had an unobstructed view of the Forbidden Forest and the hills beyond, the dark mass of trees stretching secretively into the distance. 

She didn’t know how long she sat there for, alternately thinking and spacing out, until the chiming of the clock tower made her realise that she had missed both lunch and History of Magic entirely. Her whole body was stiff from the cold and from sitting in the same position for so long, and Jjing Jjing had fallen asleep on her knee. 

_I can’t stay here forever_ , she told herself firmly, and forced herself to get up and bid Jjing Jjing goodbye. 

She entered the Slytherin common room to find it empty apart from two people stacked practically on top of each other on the sofa nearest to the fireplace, arms and legs tangled together like some sort of eight-limbed humanoid beast. A split second later, she realised that it was Chorong and Changsub. 

For a wild, disorienting moment, she considered that perhaps their arguments had finally reached their peak and they had progressed from shoulder slaps to full-on sparring—then she realised that they were also connected at the lips, and the grunts and gasps she was hearing were not of physical strain but rather of arousal.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen it coming. Of course it would have happened sooner or later. It still came as a shock, nonetheless, and she stood frozen for a few seconds, knowing full well that she should discreetly sneak away before they realised she was there, but feeling as if she had been struck by a full-body bind curse.

Chorong noticed her first, pulling away from Changsub with a gasp and hastily wriggling off his lap. They were, at the very least, fully dressed. “Yongsun!”

“Ah, fuck,” Changsub muttered under his breath when he realised. They were both looking at her with strangely guilty expressions on their faces, and it was suddenly too much to handle—

“Um,” she stammered ineloquently, and then turned tail and fled.

She could hear Chorong calling after her, but she ignored her and kept on walking down the corridor, head down, blood rushing in her ears. The rational part of her brain told her that she should turn around and head back to the common room and have a calm discussion about new statuses and boundaries with her two best friends like a mature, sensible person would, but in that moment she felt as far away from mature and sensible as it was possible to be.

She only realised that her feet were taking her to the Room of Requirement by the time she was ascending the stairs to the sixth floor (“What’s the rush, dearie?” an eighteenth century fop called out from within the confines of a large gilt frame), and she stopped abruptly in her tracks when she remembered that she and Byulyi weren’t on speaking terms at the moment. To put it mildly. 

She could return to the Owlery, but the thought of sitting in that austere stone room for even just another hour made the icy pit in her stomach grow. 

For an overwhelming moment, she thought she might really just burst into tears there and then, right under the inquisitive eyes of the fop and his rabidly nosy portrait friends, because there was _no one else_ she could turn to, and fuck, did she feel like the sorriest person alive in that very instant.

Then, like a fragile ray of light piercing through a gathering fog, she recalled a thoughtful voice telling her about a secret spot nestled in the hills past the Whomping Willow. _It’s a nice place to be alone, away from all the noise. I go there sometimes, when I need someplace to breathe._

It was a long shot, but it wasn’t like she had any other options.

It must have taken her close to half an hour, but she would later recall the journey there only in muddled flashes of images and sensation: the rise and fall of her own breath in her ears; the biting early December wind; the gnarled, knotted base of the Whomping Willow clawing naked branches up into the gray sky; the start of the narrow, winding dirt path hiding between closely-packed pines, that she somehow knew how to find her way to; splashes of bright colour darting ahead of her through the wintry woodland. 

They were butterflies, she realised—unheard of at this time of year, but now miraculously present, disappearing behind the trees for seconds at a time before flitting back into sight once again. When the path ended in a particularly lush section of undergrowth, she knew instinctively to follow the butterflies, trusting that their frenetic, vivid flight would guide her through the imposing tallness of trees and lead her to where she needed to go. 

It hadn’t rained for the past week, so the distant sound of the waterfall was more a placid gurgle than a roar, but she sped up immediately at the sound. The dried leaves crunched in protest under her shoes, their frantic rustling in tune with her mounting desperation. 

She emerged into a warmly-lit clearing, to the sound of a babbling river and the miraculous sight of two girls perched atop a large, mossy rock that rested on a bank slightly uphill. They sat side by side with their shoulders pressed together, back facing her. Yongsun recognised her friend immediately by the navy-and-silver scarf wound around her neck, but not the girl next to her, who had long, _long_ jet black waves that streamed sleekly down her back and a large yellow flower stuck behind her ear that matched her bumblebee-striped scarf. 

They didn’t register her approach until she was about ten feet away, and their heads swivelled around in unison when they heard her. 

“Unnie!” Wheein chirped, the corners of her mouth lifting into a smile, looking so pleasantly surprised to see her that Yongsun’s heart clenched at the sight, and only then did she finally let herself cry. 

Once she started, she found that it was impossible to stop. The tears spilled forth freely, blurring her vision as her throat tightened and her nose began to sting. It took a few seconds to register that the choked-up hitching noises she was hearing were her own sobs. 

It had been so long since she’d permitted herself to cry—over anything at all—that doing so felt like she was raising the floodgates on all the stress and anxiety and fear that had accumulated within her over the past three years and stewed in the dark recesses of her mind unacknowledged for just as long. The impact of the release materialised physically as a stabbing sensation in her chest; she found herself pressing her hands over her heart as if that could staunch the pain. 

“Unnie!” she heard Wheein cry out in distress, and there was a flurry of movement as she and her companion scrambled down to her. Yongsun dimly registered kindly hands guiding her to sit down, and patient, calming circles being drawn over her back. She suddenly felt immensely grateful that she wasn’t alone. 

She wondered if Byulyi had someone to cry to. Byulyi had many friends, but as far as Yongsun knew, she had always been the one Byulyi turned to for comfort. The thought of Byulyi now suffering alone made her cry even harder, till her whole body shook with the force of her sobs. 

“Shh, it’s okay, just let it out,” came Wheein’s soothing voice by her ear. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay.” 

And so she cried and cried, until her tears ran dry, and it felt like all emotion had been thoroughly wrung from her. 

“I’m sorry,” she hiccuped, when she had composed herself sufficiently. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was apologizing for, though she knew there was plenty of reason.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Wheein said at once, as the other girl wordlessly proffered some tissues. Yongsun accepted them with a gratefully sniffled thank you. 

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” she tried again. “I just—” She stopped, at a loss for how to explain herself. Just what? She just _what_? 

_I was lonely_. The words that sprang into her mind, unbidden, gave her pause. _Was_ she lonely? She hadn’t given the possibility much deliberation before. She didn’t have many friends in Hogwarts, that was for sure, but expanding her social circle had frankly been far down on her priority list in the past three-and-a-bit years of training to become a witch proper. 

There was Chorong and Changsub, her steadfast companions from the start. And of course there had been Byulyi, whose mere presence somehow had the singular power of filling up her whole immediate world, as inevitable as sunlight suffusing a forest dell at dawn. 

She'd never felt lonely with Byulyi, whose friendship she had taken for granted, and to terrible consequence. A fresh wave of nausea rose in her stomach. 

“I didn’t have anyone else to go to,” she admitted tiredly. 

Wheein and her friend exchanged a look. 

“Unnie,” Wheein began tentatively, “what’s wrong?” 

The prospect of having to bare her soul—and in the presence of a stranger, no less—filled her with a sudden mad impulse to reply with a flippant “you know what, I overreacted, everything’s fine”, and up and leave. But she had come all this way, and revealed so much of herself already through her tears to the two wide-eyed girls sitting by her. They deserved some explanation, at the very least. 

It was nigh on impossible to figure out how to even begin, but once she did, the words came out with surprising evenness. “I hurt someone who means a lot to me. And there’s no way I can fix it.” 

“Don’t say that,” Wheein said immediately, “it’s never too late to apologize.” 

Yongsun shook her head. “You don’t know what I did. The things I said…” She exhaled a tremulous breath. “I was so _cruel_.” 

“But at least...at least you’re facing up to what you did. That’s already more than most people do,” Wheein countered optimistically. “And if you want to make things better—if you really mean it—I’m sure he’ll understand. Isn’t that right, Hyejin?” 

Hyejin, whose searching eyes made her look fierce when she wasn’t smiling, nodded slowly. Yongsun absently wondered if she was imagining the barely-there frown creasing her brow. 

“If you truly care about him, and he cares about you, I’m sure you two can make it work.” 

The realisation that Wheein had been consistently saying “he” suddenly threw Yongsun for a loop. “It’s not a he,” she interjected in confusion. “She’s a girl.”

“Oh!” Wheein said, startled. “I’m sorry, I thought—wait. Are you—are you not talking about Eric Nam…?” 

Yongsun hadn’t thought it possible to feel even worse than she already did, but she was clearly being proven wrong. 

Of course. _Of course_ Wheein thought she was upset about Eric. The entire school had known of their breakup within a day of the fact. It was the most logical conclusion. Who else could it be? 

She felt strangely guilty about having to burst Wheein’s bubble. “No. It’s not about Eric. It’s about—she’s a friend.” 

Wheein looked mortified. “I’m so sorry, unnie, I shouldn’t have assumed—” 

“It’s okay. You couldn’t have known.” Then, because it didn’t seem fair to just end there, “She was my friend, and she was—she was always good to me. She took such good care of me, and she was so understanding, and forgiving, and I—I betrayed her.” 

She stopped abruptly, momentarily overcome by the surging tightness in her chest. Saying the words made them real, and the guilt rushed into her all at once, in full-force. “I was so _selfish,_ ” she choked out, “I really—I didn’t deserve her at all.” 

She hated herself for saying it, even as the words left her mouth. _What a cop-out_ , she thought in disgust. How pretentious, how trite. _I didn’t deserve her_ , like a character in a movie mourning the loss of a lover she’d emotionally neglected and consistently cheated on since the beginning. As if she hadn’t realised her own callousness, hadn’t known precisely what she was doing all along. 

How long could anyone feasibly, guiltlessly, hide from themselves? 

For it would be a lie, to say she hadn’t once suspected that Byulyi’s devotion ran deeper than mere friendship. How long had she deliberately shielded herself from the truth? 

Wheein looked deeply troubled. “Unnie...what _happened_?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” 

All attention snapped to Hyejin, whose eyes were narrowed—specifically at Yongsun. 

“What do you mean?” Wheein asked in bewilderment, obviously keyed in to the animosity emanating from her friend. 

“Come on, Wheein. Don’t you see? It’s _her._ ” 

The two girls stared at each other, so intensely and for so long that Yongsun found herself beginning to wonder, nonsensically, if they were both trained Legilimens—and then Wheein gasped. 

“ _Byulyi-unnie?_ ” 

And it suddenly clicked in Yongsun’s brain that they _knew._

For the very same day Wheein had told her about the waterfall, she had also mentioned Byulyi in passing. When Yongsun casually enquired if she knew her personally: _Oh no, I don’t—but my best friend is friends with her._

Yongsun hadn’t dwelled much on it at the time, apart from registering a brief spasm of annoyance at hearing Byulyi in connection to yet another person, but _that_ she was wise enough to gloss over quickly. For she had known, even then, that if she exerted any energy at all trying to pick apart why Byulyi’s extensive and ever-expanding social network irked her so much, there would be consequences to deal with. Namely, snowballing down a hill of self-revelation she had no urgent wish to be acquainted with. 

Now, it appeared to be an unforeseen twist of fate—whether fortuitous or ill-fated she couldn’t gauge just yet—that Wheein’s _best friend_ just so happened to be this very Hyejin, who just so happened to know about her and Byulyi. 

Hyejin was watching her intently, and didn’t miss the way Yongsun’s expression shifted at the realisation. “So it _is_ you,” she said, with something not unlike contempt. 

“Hyejin-ah,” Wheein emerged from her stunned silence to caution nervously. 

But Hyejin didn’t continue any further, just sized her up plainly with probing eyes. Yongsun might have felt offended if she had any energy left for it. 

“So the both of you know?” Her voice sounded weak and fragile to her own ears, but she couldn’t bring herself to be bothered by it. 

“Byulyi-unnie never told me your name. She said that she’d promised to keep it a secret. But I suspected it was you.” Hyejin’s lips curled on the word _secret_. 

How like Byulyi, to stay true to her promise even if it was killing her. Yongsun felt her throat start to close up again. She blinked hard, battling a sniffle so she could face her accuser. 

“What did she tell you?” 

Hyejin met her gaze coolly. “Not much, honestly. I mean, she was crying too much to really explain anything.” 

“Hyejin,” Wheein warned again, but this time her friend ignored her. 

“But the way I see it: you strung her along for almost two years, and then dumped her when things went a bit too far for your comfort.” 

“It wasn’t like that,” Yongsun whispered in horror, reeling from the accusation. 

“Wasn’t it? Don’t tell me you didn’t know she was in love with you.” 

_In love._ The revelation felt like a finishing punch to the gut on a body already wearied black-and-blue. She recognised by now that Byulyi’s affection had ventured past the boundaries of strictly platonic—that was no surprise—but _love_? 

Maybe it should have been obvious, from Byulyi’s possessive, wandering hands, or how she stared too-long at her lips when she thought Yongsun wasn’t paying attention, or the way she sometimes looked at Yongsun as though she’d hung the moon. It had been convenient to excuse it away as mere infatuation or even lust, something Byulyi would get over once she found the right girl to redirect her attentions to. 

Easier still, to pretend she didn’t see any of it at all. _Lying to herself_ , Byulyi had called it, and she was right. 

If Byulyi had loved her, then the expression on her face that night, the one Yongsun couldn’t get out of her head no matter how hard she tried—it must have been nothing less than heartbreak. 

_Unnie, do you hate me?_ The words rang in her ears like a sick, twisted refrain. 

“I knew it,” Hyejin said in response to her silence, shaking her head with something approximating grim satisfaction. Yongsun noticed that the flower behind her ear had changed from mellow yellow to a deep, angry red. 

“Stop it, Hyejin,” Wheein hissed, distraught.

“And Byulyi-unnie is one of the kindest people I know. It’s vile, how you treated her.” 

“I suppose you’re right about that,” Yongsun murmured hollowly. 

This was good, she told herself. If she had anything left in her to feel anything more than an aching emptiness, she might have been relieved that someone finally saw her for who she was—manipulative and self-centered and opportunistic. 

_This is who I am_ , she acknowledged with a sickening lurch. And Byulyi had known, that very first day on the Hogwarts Express. She'd known this about Yongsun right from the start, and had chosen to dive in headfirst anyway. 

Typical Byulyi; she’d never been much for self-preservation, that girl. 

“No,” Wheein protested, “Unnie, tell us what happened.” 

“You _know_ what happened!” Hyejin exclaimed in disbelief. “I already told you what Byulyi-unnie told me.”

“That’s not the full story,” Wheein replied, a sharp edge coming into her voice, “We should listen to what Yongsun-unnie has to say.” 

Hyejin crossed her arms. “Why should we? She admitted herself what she did.” 

“As I recall, _you_ were the one doing all the talking.” 

“Well—what more is there to say?” 

Wheein glared at her. “My god, Hyejin. Yongsun-unnie obviously feels bad enough about it already without you rubbing it in. I really thought you’d be more understanding.” 

“ _Understanding_?” Hyejin exploded, eyes flashing. “If you’d seen how torn up Byulyi-unnie was, I doubt you would be so forgiving.” 

“Please don’t fight,” Yongsun begged, starting to get up, panicked at the thought of ruining yet another relationship. “I shouldn’t have come here, I’ll go now—”

“Unnie, _sit down_.” 

Wheein’s snapped command was so unexpected that Yongsun immediately fell silent and did as instructed. A quick glance revealed that Hyejin was equally stunned by her best friend’s sudden burst of temper. 

Wheein took a deep breath.

“Yongsun-unnie is my friend. And she came to us—to me—for help. Which is what I’m going to do. You can leave if you want to, but I’m staying to listen.” She chewed on her lip before continuing somberly, “Hyejin…you of all people should know that things aren’t always as they seem.” 

The two girls stared at each other for some long moments, and finally Hyejin dipped her head, looking mildly chastised. 

“So are you staying or going?” 

“I’ll stay,” Hyejin muttered quietly after a few tense seconds. 

“Wheein,” Yongsun began again, anxious to set things right, “Hyejin is right, I did something awful. And I have to face up to it.”

“But you must have had good reason for doing what you did,” Wheein responded in frustration. “You’re not a bad person, unnie. I don’t believe it.” 

She let out a mirthless laugh. “I’m not sure there’s any good reason.”

“Tell me what happened,” Wheein coaxed gently. “From the start.” 

Wheein had a baby face that usually made her look years younger than she actually was, but in that moment, her expression was patient and generous and wise beyond her years.

Yongsun experienced the same tug at her heart she’d felt when Jjing Jjing attempted to comfort her in the Owlery.

And so, for the first time, Yongsun revealed the truth of everything that had led up to the night of the Quidditch game. From her Muggle origins, to meeting Byulyi on Platform 9¾, to their first Christmas together. Their excitement upon discovering the carefree refuge of the Room of Requirement. Then her father’s accident, and Eric presenting himself as an option, and everything going steadily downhill from there. 

About being unwilling to let herself have, and thus risk the loss of, a good thing. 

By the end of it she felt thoroughly drained, but lighter somehow. It surprised her—she had not realised until now how heavily her secret weighed on her. 

“Oh, unnie,” Wheein sighed. “It sounds like it’s been really difficult for you too.” 

Yongsun looked away from Wheein’s sympathetic gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe. It doesn’t change anything, though.” 

“Of course it does. Stop being so hard on yourself.” 

“But everything I did—everything I wanted—it was all _wrong_.”

And that was the true crux of her agony, wasn’t it? That she had been living wrongly all this time, and consequently hurt the people she loved along the way. She buried her face in her hands with a frustrated cry. “How could I have fucked up so badly?” 

“You’re only human. We all are. And that means we sometimes hurt other people even when we don’t mean to,” Wheein told her firmly. “But we learn to do better the next time. The important thing now is: what do you want to do next?” 

She looked back up helplessly. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want.” She wanted to make things up to Byulyi, that was for sure, but beyond that? She wasn’t fool enough to believe they could ever go back to being just friends again. But anything more... she wasn’t ready for that, even if Byulyi was willing to take her back. 

“Do you love her?” 

And there it was again, that ever-recurring word. She felt a sort of anguished helplessness against the magnitude of it. Whatever she’d had with Eric hadn’t been love, clearly, so how could she know for sure what it was supposed to feel like? 

Byulyi was never ambiguous with her emotions; Yongsun was the opposite. She admired that about Byulyi, the way she always seemed to know undoubtedly how she felt about something, even if she took pains not to show it. That decisive, transparent openness was one of the many things Yongsun liked about her. Byulyi bottled things up sometimes, yes, but she was easy to read to anyone who knew how. 

Yongsun, on the other hand, often felt like she didn’t even understand her emotions well enough to actually show them. Perhaps it was the years of holding herself back so tightly that had made her so emotionally stunted, she reflected bitterly. 

“I don’t know,” she finally answered. 

“That’s okay,” Wheein replied without missing a beat, calm as anything. “Then what do you feel like you need right now?”

She had to pause to consider the unexpected question.

“I think,” she said slowly, “I need time. To figure everything out. I’m just...so confused.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks. Looking back now, the past year had been a _lot_. “I just feel really overwhelmed.” 

“Then take time for yourself, unnie. It really seems like you need some space to think things through. Unnie—this is a good start. You can go from there.” 

Wheein was being so damn encouraging that Yongsun felt herself start to tear up again. She didn’t know if she believed everything Wheein had said—but for the first time in the past week, she felt a glimmer of hope.

It wasn't much—but it was a start.

At the sight of her tears, Wheein moved to fold her into a hug. “Oh, unnie.”

“Thank you,” Yongsun whispered, hoping desperately that all her gratitude could be conveyed in just those two words, and marvelled at the fact Wheein had, over the past year, quite organically progressed from a mere classmate to a true friend.

She dared a small glance towards Hyejin, who had been listening quietly all this while. Her expression was unreadable, but at least it was no longer hostile. The flower behind her ear was now an indistinct shade of purplish grey. 

“You’ll figure things out eventually, unnie. Maybe it’s hard to believe now, but things will get better. They always do,” Wheein promised, and there was nothing to do but to believe her.

\--

Wheein and Hyejin—well, mostly Wheein—offered to have dinner with her, but Yongsun politely turned them down, opting instead to stay in the clearing a little longer after the two left, watching the river flow idly in counterpoint to her racing thoughts. 

She would be good from now on, she vowed. People would come first, and her goals and plans second. What good had come out of working so hard to fit into a mold and succeed and be the best? All it had done was alienate the one person who truly understood her, and cause her to lie to her best friends for literal years. From this day forward, she would bravely toss off the mantle that she had assumed along with her identity as a Slytherin, and staunchly settle for the simple, great joys of loving other people. This grand declaration fortified her. 

As for what to do about Byulyi… Wheein was right about her needing space. She would take this much-needed distance, from Byulyi and Eric both, to sort herself out, and then make things right. 

She stayed until it got too dark and too cold to be out in the open any longer, and her eyes no longer felt swollen and tender, before retracing her steps through the woods with the help of a tracking spell. 

The Great Hall was mostly empty when she arrived at the tail end of dinnertime, a few errant students finishing up their meals solo or streaming out in small groups, ready to retreat to their common rooms for the night. At the Slytherin table sat Chorong and Changsub, looking strangely lonely with just a single plate piled full of food resting on the table between them. 

They spotted her before she could decide whether or not to retreat, which was probably for the best. _Remember your promise, Yongsun,_ she reminded herself fiercely as she made her way towards them.

“Hey,” Chorong greeted tentatively. Changsub echoed her, and the nervous expression on his face was so incongruous to the breezy, care-less Changsub she knew that Yongsun suddenly felt emboldened. 

“I’m sorry for, um, running away earlier,” she said before she could chicken out. “That was stupid of me.” 

“No it wasn’t,” Changsub replied immediately. “I would have done the same. As in, if it had been you and—well, not Rongie, obviously, but, uh—”

“Shut up, Changsub,” Chorong said, but there was no bite in her tone. In fact, she looked like she was close to tears. “We’re sorry for not telling you earlier, Yong, we really should have, and I swear we were going to, but then the whole thing with Eric happened, and the timing was all wrong, and we understand if you’re angry—”

“Don’t be silly,” Yongsun interrupted, “of course I’m not angry.” Seeing that they looked unconvinced, she added, with as much nonchalance as she could muster, “I’m just disappointed that it took _this_ long for the two of you to get your heads out of your asses and figure yourselves out, that’s all. ” 

Changsub and Chorong exchanged a startled glance. “Wait—so you, like, saw it coming?” asked Changsub, who recovered first. 

“I mean...I think pretty much the whole House did.”

“Well.” Chorong’s face coloured. “We’re sorry you had to walk in on us like _that_ , anyway.”

“Trust me, I’m sorry too,” Yongsun replied drily, and busied herself with sitting down next to Chorong to fill the pause that ensued. 

“We didn’t know when you’d be back, so we saved you some dinner,” Changsub said hastily, pushing the plate towards her. 

“Thank you, I’m starving.” 

“Where have you been the whole day, anyway? There are leaves in your hair.”

“I was in the Owlery. And then I went for a walk in the forest.”

“The _Forbidden Forest_?” 

She shook her head. “Up in the hills, by the Whomping Willow.” 

Chorong looked worried. “It must have been really cold.” 

“It wasn’t too bad,” Yongsun assured her, although her fingertips were still numb. 

“Yong…so you’re okay with this? With me and Changsub-ie being together?” 

She hesitated, thinking hard about how to explain herself. “I’m happy for the both of you. I think I just freaked out at first because I was afraid that things would change between us.”

“Nothing’s gonna change,” Changsub swore immediately. “We won’t let it.”

Chorong nodded fervently. “It’s always been, and will always be, the three of us against the world. We’re best friends first before anything. And you know…” she added vaguely, “sisters before misters, and all that.” 

Yongsun snorted, as Changsub let out an indignant “hey!”. 

“Let’s hope it never comes to that,” she laughed, feeling a sudden warmth blooming in her chest. It had been silly to worry, she realised now. These were her _best friends._ They’d waited up for her even after she ran away like a coward, and apologised even though they’d done nothing wrong. Nothing would tear them apart.

All she wanted, in that instant, was for them to be honest with each other. She didn’t want any more lies. 

“I have something to tell you guys,” she said abruptly, before she lost her nerve. 

“Sure,” Changsub said, looking surprised. “What is it?” 

This was her chance—to tell the truth, come clean, her first step in starting afresh as the new Kim Yongsun. 

“My parents are Muggles,” she blurted out, and braced herself for the fallout. 

When her friends just looked confused, she soldiered on. “I’m sorry for lying to you all this time. I panicked, in first year, when I found out that I was sorted into Slytherin, and there was never really a good time to correct myself after that. But I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Changsub looked flummoxed. “So...your parents aren’t Curse-Breakers working in the US?” 

“No. I made that up. My mum actually owns a chicken restaurant, and my dad’s an engineer. And I have an older sister too. She’s in university now.”

“I don’t understand,” Chorong said slowly, “Why did you lie about this in the first place?” 

“I didn’t know how you’d feel about me being Muggle-born, I guess. You know, seeing as we’re in _Slytherin_.” 

There was a pause as her reply sank in. 

"But—the whole pure-blood thing," Changsub began, glancing hesitantly at Chorong for reassurance before continuing, "I mean, it's all a bit _archaic_ , isn't it?" 

“It’s absolute bullshit,” Chorong added, looking stricken. “I thought you knew that, Yong.”

Yongsun could have kissed them both. She had always told herself that her reason for maintaining the pure-blood facade for so long was the simple wish to not want to rock the boat, and only now did she realise that a small part of her had actually been afraid of how Chorong and Changsub would react to the truth. It seemed like her fear had run deeper than she knew. 

“So you mean you pretended all this while, because you thought we wouldn’t _approve_?” 

She shrugged. “Something like that.” 

“Oh, Yongie,” Chorong whispered, throwing her arms around her, and all of a sudden they were both crying—Yongsun for the third time that day. 

“I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could be honest with us,” Chorong sobbed. 

“It’s not your fault, silly,” Yongsun sniffled, clinging on tightly, “I was just being really stupid about it.” 

“I’m glad you stopped being stupid, then.” 

“I’m glad too.”

Yongsun glanced to the side to see Changsub looking completely bewildered. “Come here,” she ordered tearfully, and he hopped obediently over the table and wrapped his long arms around them both. 

“I meant it just now, when I said I was happy for you both. I really, really am. You have no idea what torture it was, seeing the two of you argue like an old married couple day in day out and not do anything about it.” 

“Gee, Yong, was it really that bad...?”

“ _Worse_ ,” she declared, to disgruntled groans from the other two. 

Yongsun couldn’t help but giggle through her tears. They were going to be okay. And she didn’t know how long it would take—but someday, so would she.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long; my last couple of weeks were sadly plagued by both writer's block and general busyness at work :-( 
> 
> Anyhow, I just want to say a huge huge huge thank you to all you readers—it's still crazy to me that there are real human beings who actually read, and appreciate, my writing. I can't describe how dizzyingly happy that knowledge makes me. And to all my lovely commenters: I feel a bit silly replying to every single comment, so I hope you know that even if I don't, every single one means the world and inspires me to keep on pushing myself in my writing. 
> 
> Finally, happy new year everyone! Wishing you all a smooth-sailing, uneventful 2021.


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